


Providence

by Valaks



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex Rider Needs a Hug, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Ian Rider’s Not So Questionable Parenting, Post Skeleton Key, Russian Lessons, Sort of Mentor Yassen, Yassen Can’t Give Him That But He Does His Best, Yassen Gregorovich Surprisingly Approves of It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaks/pseuds/Valaks
Summary: Customs was a source of frustration even for world class assassins. All the more so when Yassen sees a very familiar and very unwanted mop of blonde hair in front of him. It had been 3 months since he warned Alex Rider to stay out of this line of work. He had obviously ignored that. The question was - is he working now? [Spyfest 2020 Week 3 Winner]OrBeing Alex Rider’s unofficial guardian angel was more work than it should be but no less worth it.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 253
Collections: Spyfest 2020





	Providence

In stressful situations Yassen stuck to simple facts to center himself. It had been a useful coping skill introduced by Dr. Steiner as part of his Malogosto training. It was serving him well now. The fact was, Alex Rider was standing in front of him in a customs line in Moscow. Perhaps it was happenstance. He doubted it. He didn’t have the best track record with Riders in general, Alex was no different. He was likely here on behalf of MI6 but there was one way to tell for certain. He carefully lifted the boy’s passport from his back pocket and dropped it on the ground. American, he observed as he picked it up. Still with MI6 then - he had told the boy to get out. He obviously hadn’t listened. The real question was - was he here for him?

He could assume so and leave, book another plane at another time in another place. Getting out of the customs line would be difficult if MI6 were here for him, or the SVR more likely, but not impossible. Something in the way Alex carried himself told him that might not be necessary. He was clearly exhausted, shoulders slumped forward but he moved stiffly - an injury to his chest or back. He didn’t carry anything with him - no carryon bag or suitcase. Unlike every other person in line he wasn’t staring moodily into a cell phone. It was off but not in the way that would suggest danger. 

He needed to make sure, though. Yassen tapped Alex on the shoulder and watched the boy startle then wince as he turned around. A suspicious reaction but too strong for someone who was planning against him. Then again, Alex Rider was young and new to the game so his reactions couldn’t be counted on. “You dropped this.” 

“Thank you.” He said grabbing the papers with shaking hands but when he looked up there was no recognition in his eyes. Unsurprising since Yassen was in disguise but if this was a trap then Alex would have been warned what to look for.

Maybe he didn't know that Yassen was the mark then? It was obvious he was either on a mission or fresh off of one. Someone had to have booked this for him, maybe they thought Alex would be enough of a distraction given Yassen’s history for his father. It wasn’t entirely unmerited. But then where were they? Wouldn’t they have come the moment he interacted with Alex? No one had made a move. There was no tension in the air. No feeling of eyes watching. No unusual movements. All was normal. Except the 14 year old spy in front of him. 

They made it almost to the checkpoint before Alex let out a tired yawn and Yassen stiffened. Was that a signal? Now would be the best time - so close to the guards and with a veritable wall of people behind him, escape would be almost impossible. There wasn’t any indication that something was wrong, no one’s body language read as tense. Annoyed and bored? Yes. But nothing further. What’s more, the eyes of the guards slid easily off of him in a way he was not used to. In the presence of a teenager it made sense. No wonder MI6 saw him as valuable. No one was looking for a teen. Someone accompanying one even less. 

He yawned again, Alex was young but any agent would feel that faking this level of exhaustion was over the top. It was bound to garner notice and from the sympathetic look of the customs agent it did. Sympathetic, not guarded. It was looking more and more like a chance meeting than the trap he had feared. Yassen moved to stand closer behind him, to any outsider it would be clear that they were together. If it  _ was _ a trap, Alex Rider would make a good hostage. The person in front of the customs agent walked past and she waved them both forward.

“We’re not…” Alex began 

“It’s fine, it’ll get us out of the line faster.” Yassen said, and the boy didn’t fight his suggestion. A little too compliant given what he knew of the boy but he allowed Yassen to handle the questions, producing his paperwork when instructed and a short two minutes later they were through. 

Once they were a sufficient distance away, Alex turned unexpectedly, eyes brimming with anger “I told Byrne I don’t need a babysitter. I meant it.” 

Byrne? He only knew of one. What was Alex doing working with the CIA?

His confusion must have shown “Oh...I’m sorry. I...my parents can be protective and…” he trailed off awkwardly.

That was a terrible cover. If he were anyone else Alex would have just outed himself and be dead. As it stood, it was Yassen, or more accurately David Sokolov, a Russian literature professor who would have mercy on the poor awkward English boy.

“No trouble, airports can bring out the worst in us. Take care, yes?”

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.” He apologized again and beat a hasty retreat. 

5 minutes and a water bottle richer he made it to his gate and he  _ really  _ shouldn’t have been surprised when he found Alex in one of the chairs. It was just his luck that they would be on the same plane. While there was still a thread of suspicion he knew in reality it would make no sense to act on it now. Not when it would have been so much more convenient in customs. The plane wouldn’t board for thirty minutes so he settled down to wait. Alex was already asleep, the bags under his eyes all the more pronounced with his eyes closed and his mouth drawn into a frown. Whatever mission the CIA had tasked him with had obviously not been easy. Even in sleep he was still tense but Alex had brought this on himself when he ignored Yassen’s warning on the rooftop. Maybe next time he would say no. He pulled a book from his bag and, under the guise of reading, kept an eye on the gate. Just in case. 

He ignored the boarding calls as he always did. His ticket was first class, the boarding process would be smooth for him regardless of when he went to the podium and he preferred to watch the other passengers to prevent any...surprises. When he heard the machine beep loudly and unsatisfactorily Yassen didn’t even have to glance up to confirm who it was. Alex. Of course. He looked close to tears between his exhaustion and frustration. The language barrier was probably not helping. With a sigh Yassen walked up into the first class line and caught the gist of the conversation.

The CIA had booked him in an exit row - common for an operative getting off assignment but against airline policy for minors. The logistics team obviously didn’t know his age or was incompetent enough to not consider it. With the CIA it could be either. 

He should let them handle it. It would be a simple thing to just switch his seats. But Alex was clearly surviving only on the last vestiges of adrenaline and instinct. In the cramped quarters of economy or even business, if the wrong person touched him at the wrong time.... 

“He can sit with me.” He interrupted as the gate agent looked at the seat assignments in frustration.

“First class is full, sir.” There was an edge of annoyance at having to deal with two problems at once.

“I paid for two seats but my companion couldn’t come.” Lie. Yassen just didn’t trust anyone near him for that long. If he couldn’t fly private this was the best method of getting by. “He can have it. 

“Are you certain?” 

He merely nodded and Alex didn’t object, in short order the ticket was printed

As they walked down the jetway Alex finally broached the silence “Why did you do that? I was horrible to you.”

“You remind me of a friend’s son.” He began and meant it to be comforting but Alex flinched violently. Interesting. “I mean you no harm.” He assured “It was a simple solution and one that will allow you the rest you need, it will be a long flight.” It wouldn’t, only 3 and a half hours, but Alex was a child and David Sokolov would see him as such.

“Thank you.” he whispered quietly but shifted his gait to allow Yassen to go first. He saw it for what it was - a courtesy to let him choose which seat he preferred aisle or window. Yassen made his preference known by stopping just after their row and gesturing Alex to slip into the window seat. The stewardess was there before he even had a chance to sit down. 

“Thank you for flying with us today. My name is Mila and I will be your stewardess, what can I start you off with?”

“Bottled water.”

“Coke, please.” 

Yassen frowned, not the healthiest choice and the teen was already looking sickly. If he was as fresh off mission as Yassen suspected, dehydration was almost a guarantee. 

“And another bottled water for him as well.”

Alex shot him a confused and wary look. Suspicious. That was healthy in his chosen field.

“Soda will dehydrate you, it will be a long flight.”

The boy seemed to accept that and nodded, “Thank you.” 

He wasn’t sure what he had pictured Alex Rider to be like outside of a life threatening situation. Perhaps brash or confident, maybe even cocky given his age and skill set. Whatever it was, polite and demure was not it. Granted, he was so tired he was practically catatonic with exhaustion but at least Ian Rider had raised him with enough manners that they showed through even when he was just a glorified bundle of nerves. 

They didn’t speak after their drinks arrived, Alex finished both of them off quickly and minutes later, before the plane even started Taxi-ing, he was asleep. 

An hour and a half into the journey and Yassen had already acquired his next job - a pillow apparently. Not as well paying as he was used to but significantly less dangerous. First class seats were built specifically to prevent this but he didn’t have the heart to wake Alex up and move him. Fortunately, just as his shoulder was going numb, Mother Nature did it for him. Turbulence shook the plane and the boy lifted his head in confusion, then jerked back in realization, cheeks heating with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry” he murmured 

“It is okay, Sasha.”

He looked at Yassen in confusion “My name’s Tyler.” 

At least he remembered his cover, it was more than he expected out of him right now. The sleep must have done him some good. 

“Sasha is just a nickname for children in Russian.” Specifically children named Alex but he didn’t need to know that.

The boy frowned as only a teenager being called a child can but didn’t say anything more on it “I’m sorry, you’ve been so nice and I never even asked your name.”

He obviously hadn’t been listening in the Customs line but then he probably thought he was an agent or that he would never see him again. Yassen had certainly hoped the same. “David” he smiled but said it with enough force to end the conversation. He wasn’t a fan of small talk. Alex likely didn’t mind either and curled back up in his chair looking far younger than his 14 years.

Another hour after that and Alex Rider was back asleep on Yassen’s shoulder. Despite the sheer absurdity of it, the assassin still didn’t move him. He obviously needed sleep and likely more water. Before he could fully comprehend the action, he called over the stewardess for another bottle, pointedly ignoring the soft smile she gave at the sight.

He had just turned back to his book when he heard a small whimper. A nightmare. Too old for it to be natural but not uncommon in their field. He wasn’t sure how much training Alex had been given to mitigate them or how he reacted in the first place but he didn’t want to deal with the questions that would come from anything he might unintentionally say or worse, scream. A single man flying with a lone boy with no luggage from Moscow was enough to raise eyebrows  _ without _ helping it further.

He gently shook him. Unsurprisingly, Alex immediately lashed out with a palm strike. Yassen easily intercepted it but arched an eyebrow. His handlers - CIA, MI6, or otherwise - should have  _ never _ let him anywhere in public like this. Not with how inexperienced Alex was. He may not be deadly yet but he could deal quite a bit of pain. A civilian like David Sokolov would panic and have no idea what to do. Broken bones and a police report were the best case scenario. Fortunately, for Alex and whoever would have had to handle  _ that _ paperwork, the young spy was sat with an assassin. If Yassen believed in such things he would say it was divine providence that the teen had been placed on the same flight as him. He did, however, believe in luck and Alex Rider had that in spades.

“Sasha” he said softly but didn’t make any more physical moves. Alex would see it as a threat. He would have to be patient.

It took a few seconds before he seemed to come to his senses. The fog of fear in his brown eyes morphing into painful concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked hurriedly 

“Of course, you were just having a nightmare, Sasha.” The boy flushed. “It is fine, we all have them. Drink, you will feel better.” He ordered, pressing the water bottle into his hand and then flagged down the stewardess for some tea to help calm his nerves. 

He had already finished the water bottle in silence by the time the stewardess returned, carefully passing the porcelain cup over Yassen. Alex accepted it gratefully a minute later but hissed as he spilled it onto himself. His hands were shaking just as they had been in the customs line. Adrenaline. Maybe leftover from the mission, maybe from the nightmare, either way if Yassen had a sedative he would have slipped it to him by now. Alex was still in a flight or fight mindset. He needed to calm down and with nothing else to distract him, that meant he needed to talk. What do you talk to a teenager about? He doubted a lecture on proper weapons maintenance or, more pressingly, post mission self care would go over well. Maybe a lesson on meditation? He could say it would help with his nightmares. Alex would be embarrassed but it would pass the time. 

He caught Alex’s eyes drifting to his book. That could work. 

“Do you know Russian?”

“No, I want to learn it, it would be very helpful.”

There was obviously a story there but he couldn’t ask without arousing suspicion and in the boy’s mental state there was no telling how he would react. He would probably only get a lie. An unconvincing one of his display after customs was any indication.

Yassen arched an eyebrow “It’s a difficult language.”

“I like a challenge” he shrugged “and I’m good with languages”

“How many do you know?”

“4 fluently and I’m passable in 2 others.”

“Impressive.” Ian Rider had been busy. “I will help you get started then.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve already done so much.” Despite his protest it was obvious the teen really wanted the distraction. Alex was probably afraid to be alone with his thoughts but also afraid to try and sleep again. The mission had obviously taken a physical toll on him, he imagined the mental one was a magnitude worse. Yassen had been there before. He could leave it where it was now, Alex had left that door open but perhaps he deserved some mercy. The CIA and MI6 obviously were showing him none.

“It is no trouble, Sasha, there are not many your age who would be interested in such things.” He said, pulling out a pen from his carryon. “Pass me your napkin” he ordered and Alex hastily obeyed. Yassen started writing out the Cyrillic alphabet and began his lesson. 

They deplaned an hour later with Alex having made an exceptional amount of progress for such a short amount of time. He shouldn’t be surprised given the boy said he was “good at languages” but most teenagers tended to overestimate themselves. 

“You did well.” Yassen was not one for compliments but perhaps it would motivate Alex to continue his lessons and not waste their efforts. 

“You’re a good teacher.” 

David Sokolov would have beamed but Yassen Gregorovich couldn’t stop the twitch of a genuine smile at his lips to fake it. “I hope you’ll consider getting a tutor when you return home.” 

“I suppose I owe you that much.” He smiled “I’ll talk to my housekeeper.”

Housekeeper. He supposed it made sense after the death of Ian Rider that Alex would have no one left to care for him.

“I wish you luck then” they had reached the end of the jetway. 

“Sir?” Alex hesitated, every bit of his awkward 14 years. “Thank you...for everything” the sheer amount of gratitude in that statement was almost palpable. 

True gratitude was rare in their field. He could count on one hand the number of times he had expressed it himself and at least two of those were to the boy’s father. Yassen decided that it had been worth every added bit of stress looking after Alex Rider if only for that moment. “Of course, Sasha” He returned softly and Alex shot him another smile and wave and then turned to head toward arrivals. Yassen was going the same way but he would give him a head start. He didn’t want to be caught in customs again with Alex Rider. He also didn’t want to see the boy again. A warning then. Another. Maybe in the aftermath of what had clearly been a brutal mission he would listen. 

“Alex?” He said, dropping the accent. The teen halted mid stride and turned around, there was a flicker of recognition but he still looked confused. He didn’t know then, perhaps that was for the best. “It is not too late to say no to them.”

“What?”

But Yassen was already walking past him,getting easily lost in the crowd. Maybe he would put it all together or maybe he would think he was so tired that he hallucinated the entire thing. Either way he was content in the knowledge that he had done all he could do for Alex Rider right now. Hopefully it would be enough.


End file.
